


Cold Dead Hands

by stars28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Death Row, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Pre-Series, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 15:18:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10924536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars28/pseuds/stars28
Summary: Sam receives a phone call from an unknown number whilst he’s revising for end-of-year exams; it’s not good news.





	Cold Dead Hands

_“We want the motherfucking world and we want it now_  
_Tonight I watched your fires burn out_  
_The cold dead hands we pried these guns from are yours…”_  
**\- The Great Die-Off, Rise Against.**

* * *

Sam’s desk light shines over his laptop and piles of notes that are critical for him passing his end-of-year exams. He _needs_ to pass to get into the next year. The only way he’s going to do that is by revising for stupid amounts of time.

He’s just got into a rhythm when the only connection he has to his family – the phone he keeps charged and turned on loud hidden next to his gun in his desk drawer – rings loudly. He jumps and curses, automatically scrabbling for the phone.

He opens the drawer and picks the phone up, wondering if it’s his Dad (unlikely), his brother (possible), or Bobby (more probable). Sam frowns when he sees that it’s an unknown and blocked number. That’s unusual.

He stares at the ringing phone for a minute or so before sighing heavily in defeat and answering.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end is instantly recognisable.

_“Sammy?”_

“D-Dean?”

_“Hey bro.”_

“Why are you calling? Are you in trouble?”

_“Sammy, I’m always in trouble. You know that.”_

“You’ve _never_ called me before though.” Sam points out, flipping his pen between the fingers of his spare hand.

Dean sighs down the phone.

_“Maybe I’m in more trouble than usual.”_

“Yeah?”

_“Yeah, in a sort of ‘on death row’ kinda trouble.”_

Sam isn’t usually one to swear – he leaves that to his big brother – but in this moment, every single swear word (most learnt from Dean growing up) he knows falls off his lips.

Finally, he ends with, “What the _fuck_ Dean?”

Dean laughs lowly, _“Yeah, I got into some fucking massive trouble and_ ta-da! _I’m on death row.”_

“Dean, you can’t just _tell me that!_ ” Sam tells him, pissed off and scared for his brother, “You, you – this isn’t a joke. You’re going to _die!_ ”

_“I know Sammy. Trust me: I know.”_

As much as Sam kind of hates his Dad right now, he has to ask, “Why didn’t Dad try to get you out, when you were first caught?”

There’s a significant pause before Dean answers, _“I dunno where Dad is right now Sam.”_

“Bobby then?”

Sam feels distinctly like the world is flipping upside down.

_“Wouldn’t answer my calls.”_

“Could’ve called me.”

_“Would you ‘ave answered?”_

Sam sighs deeply, saying truthfully, “Probably not.”

_“You see? I had no one.”_

He feels intensely guilty; it churns in his stomach, causing him to breathe through the sudden feeling of sickness. He knows there’s nothing he can say to make it better, but he tries anyway.

“Fuck, I didn’t – didn’t – _fuck_.”

_“Sammy. You didn’t know because I made it that way. Fuck knows I only ever wanted the best for you. You’re the best of us Winchesters, you wanted to get out of the life, and you did. You did it so well Sammy. I’m proud of you.”_

Sam’s eyes water at how much goddamn _honesty_ is in Dean’s voice. This isn’t a trick, isn’t a con of any kind; it’s the blatant truth. And fuck, does the truth hurt when he knows that there’s anything he can do to get his brother off the charges.

“T-thanks Dean.” He says, choked up.

 _“Don’t be such a girl.”_ Dean replies, though he sounds a bit rough-voiced too.

Sam laughs quietly, “Jerk.”

_“Bitch.”_

It’s quiet on Dean’s end for a few minutes – Sam doesn’t make any attempt to fill the silence – it’s just the sounds of them breathing before Dean sighs softly.

_“Sammy – Sammy, I have to go now. It’s…been good talking to you one last time.”_

“Bye Dean.”

The phone clicks, indicating the phone call has been disconnected. Sam holds it against his ear for a long, seemingly endless moment before placing it on his desk, next to his neatly written notes.

He pushes away from his desk, neatly written notes the furthest thing from his mind right now. When he settles on his bed, he finds with mild shock, that there are tears sliding down his face. He has no idea how long they’ve been there, but he supposes it doesn’t matter really.

All that matters is that, in a state far away from him, his older brother – the person who raised him and taught him everything about life – is being put to death for something he didn’t do.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry for killing Dean off. I really am. But with any luck, my next SPN fic will be happier.


End file.
